


The First and the Last

by Zara_Zee



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alpha Sam, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Angst with a Happy Ending, Enemas, Hunter Dean Winchester, Hunter Sam Winchester, Hurt Dean Winchester, M/M, Mating, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Omega Dean, Pseudoscience, Sexism, Sibling Incest, Unique Biology
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-17
Updated: 2018-08-17
Packaged: 2019-06-28 13:31:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,135
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15708225
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zara_Zee/pseuds/Zara_Zee
Summary: Written for the following prompt at LJ’s spnkink-meme:John put Dean on suppressant medication even before Dean had his first heat and Dean has been on it ever since. He sees no reason to go off it, ever. A heat would be humiliating, inconvenient and unspeakably awful. Then Dean collapses for no good reason one day. At the hospital he’s eventually told that he has to go off suppressant medication completely or he will die. His body is reacting to the decades of these toxic drugs. The wonder is that he didn’t collapse sooner. Faced with the reality of having his first heat in his late 30s, there’s only one Alpha in the world he trusts to see him through it safely—Sam.





	The First and the Last

**Author's Note:**

> This is an AU in that it is set in an A/B/O world; however, it does stick close to canon, for the most part, before diverging completely at Season 8, episode 14. I have misappropriated some Show dialogue. Credit to the writers. The anon prompter wanted a Sam who was truly worthy of Dean’s trust, so that’s what I’ve tried to deliver, because trust and consent are sexy.  
> Also...this kind of got away from me and got loooong. That wasn't the plan.

Sam sits and catalogues the copies he made from the Thule’s Red Ledger, stopping occasionally to take a sip of his Scotch and to glance surreptitiously at his big brother. Dean is sitting opposite him, his feet up on the table. He’s staring out toward the telescope at the rear of the library, his own glass of Scotch cradled in his hands, and he looks _content_. 

Sam can’t remember his brother looking this content, ever. Dean had even taken a detour past one of their storage facilities on his way back from checking on Kevin and picked up his small collection of vinyl records and a few other bits and pieces; things to make the bunker more homey.

Sam smiles softly. As an Alpha, he understands the need to mark your territory. He and Dean have spent their lives being new in town; just passing through; and when it comes to creating their own territory, Sam learned a long time ago to make do with setting down his duffle bag and laying salt lines.

Dean, of course, is a Beta and Betas don’t have the same territorial instincts that Alphas do, but then Dean has been strutting around like an Alpha his whole life and he’s learned how to play the part exceptionally well.  It’s got to be tough, Sam supposes, having an Alpha father and an Alpha younger brother. Dean has always over-compensated. He’s tall for a Beta and he’s got the swagger down pat. He keeps his hair almost military short and he likes to wear Dad’s old leather jacket. Leather holds scent really well and even now—some six years after Dad’s death—the jacket still has some residual scent left.

At first, it had seemed almost Omega-like, the way Dean clung to that jacket, but then Sam figured it out. Betas don’t have a highly developed sense of smell like Alphas and Omegas do; they don’t need it. So a Beta can’t smell an Alpha or an Omega, but Alphas and Omegas can smell Betas. Dean, though, wears a scent blocker. And if you combine that with his Dad’s jacket, he smells faintly Alpha. Dean wants Alphas to think he’s one of them. And he’s probably tricked a few Omegas into bed too, if the scent of Omega that Sam smells around Dean on occasion is anything to go by.  Sam can’t say he approves of his brother picking up Omegas for casual sex. Once an Omega has been through their first Heat and had their Omega-channel opened, they need regular sex with an Alpha to stay healthy.

At the last census 72% of American males were Betas, 24% were Alphas and 4% were Omegas. For American females, 64% were Betas, 33% were Omegas and 3% were Alphas.

Society is overwhelmingly Beta, and Beta/Beta is the most common relationship type. It’s not uncommon, though, for Beta men to wish they were Alphas, because Alphas (on average) are taller, stronger, they’re well-endowed, have great stamina in bed, and can compel obedience in an Omega-in-Heat, just with their scent and their voice.  Some Beta men see Omega women as the feminine ideal; because Omega women are usually small, submissive and, unlike Beta women, they can conceive and birth children easily. That’s the stereotype anyway. Jess certainly hadn’t been either small or submissive. They’d never shared a Heat, of course; Jess was delaying her first Heat and the opening of her Omega-channel until after she’d graduated; and it was only during their Heat that Omegas became highly compliant toward Alphas. A true Alpha would never exploit that; something that Beta society in general didn’t seem to understand.

An Alpha man with an Omega woman is the second most common relationship type, simply because there aren’t many male Omegas or female Alphas. From the standpoint of the Alpha and the Omega the primary gender of their partner makes very little difference. As an Alpha, Sam is only attracted to Omegas; it’s biologically hard-wired.  

So Dean doesn’t have Alpha instincts, but he’s learned, almost subconsciously, to mimic them, even if he doesn’t quite get them right. It’s a little sad, but Sam gets it. Most Hunters are Alpha and it’s hard to get respect among Hunters if you’re just a Beta.

As far as Sam is concerned, Dean is the best Hunter he knows. He loves his brother and he respects the hell out of him and the way Dean is just radiating contentment right now is making Sam very happy. Sam frowns again. He’s actually finding it…soothing. Which is odd.

Dean clears his throat. “I’m gonna hit the hay. Night, Sammy.”

 

Dean wakes up and wonders just how much whiskey he drank last night. He only remembers having one tumbler, but he feels hungover as fuck. His head hurts, he feels hot and slightly nauseated and when he stands up, he sways like a drunk, giddy and disoriented, just for a moment.

A hot shower helps (Dean freaking loves the water pressure in the Letters bathrooms) and when he takes his daily Omegastrol, he pops a couple of Tylenol too.

Sam’s out when Dean makes it into the kitchen, but there’s fresh coffee in the pot. Dean pours himself a mug and then pokes around in the fridge and the cupboards in the vain hope that some food might have magically appeared. There’s some left over pizza and Dean is considering having a piece or three for breakfast when Sam walks in with a bunch of shopping bags and, more importantly, a box of breakfast pastries.

“Sammy!” Dean grins widely. “You are a prince among men.”

Sam returns Dean’s smile, complete with dimples, and puts the box on the table, opening the lid, and gesturing at Dean to help himself.  Dean gets a couple of plates out of a cupboard, because he doesn’t want them to get crumbs everywhere; it’s unsanitary.    

Sam usually prefers healthy crap like granola or muesli for breakfast, but this morning he serves himself an apple Danish and doesn’t even bitch at Dean for having all of the cinnamon donuts for his breakfast.

Sam is going to make some lucky Omega an amazing Alpha one day and, God, does Dean want that for his baby brother. Sam is everything an Alpha should be and Dean is still embarrassed that he didn’t have the strength to walk away and leave Sam with Amelia when he got back from Purgatory. And yeah, okay, Amelia’s Alpha coming home after being reported missing, presumed dead, had a lot to do with it too, but maybe Sammy would’ve fought for her if Dean hadn’t been so Goddamn needy, so unwilling to let his brother go.

After breakfast, Dean retreats to his room. He spends the morning mounting guns and knives on the wall and arranging his albums and his photographs on the various surfaces in his room. Just for kicks he uses a whole bunch of old school stationary items as room décor as well.

Dean has just put his photo of him and his Mom in pride of place when Sam says, _wow_ and Dean whirls to face him.

“Not bad,” Sam says.

“Not bad?” Dean raises an eyebrow.  “I haven't had my own room – _ever_. I'm making this awesome. I got my kickass vinyl, I've got this killer mattress,” he goes and sits on his bed and grins broadly. “Memory foam,” Dean says in a hushed tone, “it remembers me.”

Sam smirks; the smile that Dean knows means his brother is thinking that he’s both funny and adorable. He watches as Sam takes a piece of gum out of the wrapper and sticks it into his mouth, looking around Dean’s room appraisingly.

“And it's clean, too,” Dean adds. “There's no funky smell. There's no creepy motel stains.”

Sam tosses his gum wrapper at the trash can next to the desk. He misses and shrugs.

Dean glares at him. “Really?”

Sam holds up both hands in the universal gesture of submission. “Sorry.”

Dean’s scowl deepens. “I'm gonna go fix us some grub.”

He gives Sam a very pointed look and then stomps out of the room.

 

Sam smiles fondly as his grumpy brother stomps away and then he goes and picks up the wrapper. He can’t help chuckling to himself at his brother’s den-building. As an Alpha, he doesn’t really understand the instinct—in fact, he’s surprised that his Beta brother does, but if Dean is happy, then Sam is happy. And honestly, the den-building is cute, which is definitely not a word he’d usually associate with Dean.

Half an hour later, Sam is sitting at the big table in the library, as excited as a kid in an all you can eat candy store. The Men of Letters have _so_ many amazing books on lore. Sam can barely decide where to start. He’s currently trying to read through three hefty tomes at once; one on interdimensional travel and portals, one on binding spells, and one on remedies for supernatural illnesses. It’s all completely fascinating and Sam doesn’t think he could be more content if he tried.

The fact that his Alpha hind-brain had him rubbing up against the rows of bookshelves, scent-marking them, is something that no-one else needs to know. Ever.

So maybe Dean is not the only one whose instincts are going a little haywire. It’s understandable really. Neither of them has had a home in a very long time.  

“What you reading?”

Sam looks up as his brother enters the room, surrounded by a thoroughly tantalising smell.

“Uh, sort of everything really,” Sam admits as Dean puts a burger—on a _plate_ —down in front of him.

“Oh good,” Dean says. “Somebody’s gonna have to dig through all this and it ain’t gonna be me.”

He sits down beside Sam and Sam sniffs at the burger and then lifts the top bun and peers at the tomato, lettuce and home-grilled beef patty. His mouth starts to water.

“You _made_ these?” he says to Dean, pointing at the burger.

“We have a _real_ kitchen now,” Dean replies, sounding hella impressed.

“I know,” Sam nods. “I just didn’t think you knew what a kitchen was.”

The expression that comes over Dean’s face can only be described as sheepish, but then he covers it quickly with cocky bravado. “I’m nesting, okay?” he says. “Eat.”

He picks up his burger and Sam follows suit. It’s not until he’s taken a big bite of the juiciest, tastiest burger to ever grace the inside of his mouth that Sam realizes that his brother isn’t yet eating. He’s sitting, holding his burger and looking at Sam expectantly; as if Sam’s verdict on the burger is something that’s incredibly important to him.

“Huh?” Dean says, smiling shyly. “Yeah?”

“Wow,” Sam says.

Dean beams. Sam doesn’t think he’s ever seen his brother look so pleased with himself.

“You’re welcome,” Dean replies, preening just a little.

They sit together eating their burgers and the happiness and contentment rolling off Dean is almost a tangible thing. It’s almost as if…Sam shakes his head, because the thought is a ridiculous one. It’s just that settling down for the first time in forever has made their instincts go into extreme over-drive. That’s all.

Once they’ve finished eating, Dean gathers up their plates to take them back to the kitchen.

“Dean?”

His brother pauses in the doorway.

“Thank you. That was the best burger I’ve ever had.”

“You’re welcome, Al—” Dean cuts himself off abruptly and hurries from the room.

Sam frowns at his retreating back. Okay, Dean is getting a little weird. Sam could swear he almost called Sam _Alpha_.

The next moment, however, all thoughts of weirdness are driven from Sam’s mind when he hears a loud crash coming from the direction of the kitchen.

“Dean?” he’s on his feet immediately. “ _Dean_?”

And then he’s running.

Dean is motionless on the floor, with shattered shards of broken ceramic on the floor beside him.

“Dean?”

Sam is squatting by his side in an instant. He feels for the pulse in Dean’s neck and finds it, but it’s erratic. There’s blood on Dean’s forehead. Sam shakes his brother a little and calls his name, but there’s no response. His brother is out cold.

Mustering his Alpha strength Sam scoops Dean up into his arms. He detours via Dean’s bedroom and snags the keys to the impala and then heads out. He straps Dean into the front passenger seat and then pulls out fast, tires spitting up gravel.

It’s a twenty minute drive to Smith County Memorial Hospital. Sam makes it in ten. He parks in a fifteen minute drop off zone and hauls his brother out of the car, running with him in his arms, bridal style, bursting through the automatic doors of the ER and shouting for help.

“My brother just collapsed!”

There’s a flurry of activity and then there’s a trolley bed in front of him and he’s able to put Dean down. A woman—designation uncertain as she’s wearing scent blockers—in a white coat is pulling Dean’s eyelids open and shining a light into them as an orderly pushes the bed through the waiting area, through a set of double swing doors and into what is obviously a triage consulting area. 

“Why did your brother collapse?” the woman—Sam guesses she’s a doctor—asks.

“I don’t know,” Sam frowns. “I was hoping you could tell me.”

“Has this happened to him before?”

“No,” Sam runs a hand through his hair. “No. He was fine and then…he was in the kitchen and I heard a crash and he was on the floor, like this. I think he might’ve hit his head when he fell.”

The doctor hooks Dean up to a blood pressure machine and sticks some sort of tool in his ear as well.

“Drugs?” she says. “Alcohol?”

“What?” Sam’s eyes widen. “No. I mean, he does like a beer or two, but he’s not drunk or…or overdosed…if that’s what you’re asking.”

There’s a beep and the doctor takes the tool out of his ear and frowns at it. She looks at the blood pressure machine and her mouth draws into a thin line.

“What?” Sam says. “What is it?”

The doctor gives him a professional smile. “His temperature’s a bit high and so is his blood pressure. We’re going to have to run some tests. While we do that, I’ll ask you to step into the reception area and provide our front desk staff with your brother’s insurance information.”

Sam really doesn’t want to leave Dean’s side, but the doctor looks like she’s used to dealing with possessive territorial Alphas and she’s wearing what is obviously her _I will call security if I need to_ expression, so Sam nods and heads out to the car to get Dean’s insurance details.

A year or so ago, Frank Deveraux made them an impressive array of first class paperwork, included in which were Certificates of Insurance for a pretty comprehensive Unitedhealth Group health insurance policy. Of course, the policies are in the names of Tom and John Smith, so Sam will just have to hope that when Dean comes around, he remembers who he is, as far as hospitals are concerned.

Sam moves the car out of the drop off zone and into the parking lot. He retrieves Tom Smith’s Certificate of Insurance. He hurries back to the front desk and completes Dean’s intake paperwork.

And then he waits.

 

It’s not dark. And it’s noisy. Voices. And rhythmic electronic beeping. The smell is sterile—bleach and antiseptic, but it’s not overpowering.

Dean remembers being in the kitchen. He remembers the sudden acute pain in his stomach. He remembers feeling dizzy and nauseated and the roaring noise in his ears.

He opens his eyes and stares up at a white ceiling with fluorescent overhead lights. There’s a drip stand holding a bag of fluid and an IV pump to his left and he’s attached to it via a cannula in his left wrist. So hospital.

“Tom!” says a kind and cheery voice. “So good to see you awake. I’ll go and get the doctor.”

Tom? Dean frowns. Hospital. Insurance. Paperwork. Frank. Ah, right. He’s Tom Smith. And Sammy is here somewhere, because he obviously gave them Tom Smith’s Certificate of Insurance. Dean feels himself relax, just knowing that his brother is somewhere in the building.

The doctor, when she comes in, has a serious and concerned look on her face. She’s carrying a small electronic tablet.

“Hi,” she consults the tablet, “Tom. I’m Doctor Amanda Perry. Can you confirm your name and date of birth, please?”

Dean clears his throat. “Uh, yeah. Tom Smith. 24th of January 1979.”

Doctor Perry smiles. “And do you know where you are?”

“Hospital. Don’t know which one.”

“You’re at Smith County Memorial.”

“Okay,” Dean nods. It makes sense. It’s the closest one to the bunker.  

“So can you tell us what happened to you, Tom?”

Dean frowns. “Not really. I kind of…passed out. I know that much. But I don’t know why.”

“Have you been feeling unwell at all?”

Dean thinks back to the morning when he woke up feeling hot and nauseated and dizzy, with a thumping headache. He tells Dr Perry as much.

“But you know,” he adds, “I didn’t think too much of it.”

“So that’s normal for you? Waking up feeling like that?”

Dean licks at his lips. “I wouldn’t say normal. But, uh, yeah, I’ve woken up pretty hung over a time or two. But I didn’t have much to drink last night.”

“How much is not much?”

Dean rolls his eyes. “Okay, I’ll admit that I probably drink too much. But last night I only had one glass of whiskey. And a couple beers earlier in the day.”

Dr Perry makes a note on her tablet. “So how many standard drinks per day do you usually have?”  

Dean shrugs. “Seven or eight. Maybe nine. So is that what you think this is? Is my liver too pickled to do its job?”

Dr Perry sidesteps the question. “We drew some blood while you were out. Did some tests. We did an ultrasound too.”

Dean’s eyes widen. Oh shit. He swallows. His hands grip at the white blanket on the bed and he stares down at his feet. This is bad. So bad.

“And then we did a basic physical.”

Dean’s eyes dart up to hers in a panic. The compassion he sees there makes him look away again.

“Tom, you’re not a Beta male like your insurance paperwork says, you’re an Omega male. You have a womb. And all the standard Omega hormones.”

“So what?” Dean says. “What’s that got to do with anything?”

“When was your last Heat?” Dr Perry asks.

Dean’s eyes dart up to her face again. “What? I’m on suppressants. I don’t have Heats.”

 Dr Perry frowns. “Yes, I understand. But when was your _last_ Heat? When did you last allow yourself to have one?”

Dean’s brow furrows and he tilts his head, confused. “Uh, never? My old man put on suppressants when I was thirteen.”

It was the right decision too.  Going into Heat would be humiliating, inconvenient and just… unspeakably awful. It’s not something Dean has ever wanted. Not then and certainly not now.

Dr Perry’s look of concern has ratcheted up by at least a thousand notches.

“So you’ve never had a Heat? Ever?”

Dean shakes his head. “Nope.”

“You’re a 35-year-old Omega male and you’ve never had a Heat?”  

“Which part of _no_ and _never_ didn’t you understand the first two times?” Dean snarks.

Dr Perry gives him a pissy look. “Do _you_ understand how dangerous that is? How much strain you’ve been putting on your body? Tom, you could die.”

Dean raises his eyebrows. “Seriously?”

Dr Perry launches into a very solemn speech about hormones and levels of this, that, and the other, and how certain things being elevated and certain other things being suppressed can eventually cause organ failure, leading to death, but the only thing Dean really takes from it all is that they’re going to make him go off the suppressants. They’re going to force him to go into Heat. And fuck that. There is no way that is happening. Dean would rather die.

When he tells Dr Perry as much she sighs and shakes her head sadly. “It won’t be up to you,” she says. “It’ll be up to your Alpha. And the way he’s been wearing a hole in the waiting room floor, I can’t see him being happy to let you die.”

Wait, what? Dean frowns again. His _Alpha_? Is she talking about _Sammy_?

Well… _fuck_.

It’s nearly five pm when the doctor who took Dean away comes back out into the waiting room and calls Sam’s name. Well. His fake name anyway. He’s the only Alpha in the waiting room and all of the Betas look relieved when he stops his pacing and rumbling and follows her through into the treatment area. She takes him to an office, which isn’t what he was expecting.

“Where’s…Tom?” he demands. “Where’s my brother?”

The doctor looks behind him and Sam realizes that a couple of Beta security guards are standing in the doorway. With tasers. Sam takes a deep breath and does his best to calm down.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “I’m just…really worried about my brother.”

The woman offers him a lukewarm smile. “I’m Doctor Amanda Perry,” she says. “Your doctor’s treating physician. Have a seat please, Alpha.”

His eyebrows rise in surprise at the use of his designation as an honorific. It’s unusual from a Beta. Still, he sits down as directed and looks at the doctor expectantly.

“And understandable though it is,” she adds, “I would appreciate you trying to be a bit less growly.” 

Sam takes another steadying breath. “No,” he says. “My Alpha instincts are really out of control right now. It’s not understandable. And it’s certainly not acceptable. I’m really sorry.”

Dr Perry inclines her head. “Mr Smith,” she says. “Can you please confirm for me, honestly, your brother’s gender and designation?”

Okay, what the fuck? Sam frowns.

“De-Tom is a Beta male. Why?”

Her lips thin and she shakes her head. “Tom is an Omega male.”

And Sam can do nothing but gape at her. His mind is racing. Did Frank make a mistake on the Certificate of Insurance? Does the paperwork say that Tom Smith is an Omega male?

“No,” he says firmly. “There must be a misprint on the Certificate of Insurance. He’s definitely a Beta male.”

Dr Perry shakes her head. “The insurance shows him as a Beta male. The blood tests and the ultrasound are what prove that he’s actually an Omega.”

Sam is back to gaping stupidly. Dean is an _Omega_?

“And frankly,” the doctor adds, “that’s going to be a problem, given that the health issues your brother is experiencing are all related to his designation. His insurance isn’t going to cover it.”

She explains to Sam that his brother has been on suppressants since the age of thirteen, that he’s never had a Heat. That he could—probably will—die if he keeps taking suppressants. That his brother has said he _would_ rather die than go through a Heat.

“We’d really appreciate it if you’d come and talk to him,” she says. “As his Alpha, you have the right to compel him to cooperate.”

Sam’s mouth falls open. “What? No. He’s my big brother. I’m not his _Alpha_.”

Dr Perry raises an eyebrow. “You spend a lot of time together. You reek of each other. And now that the hormone infusions we’ve been giving him are starting to enable Tom’s natural scent to reassert itself,” she takes a subtle sniff, “I can already tell that your scents are extremely compatible.”

A Beta wouldn’t have a sensitive enough nose to tell, so Dr Perry is probably an Omega herself. Either that or she’s one of the three percent of female Alphas. Either way, it would explain why she uses scent blockers.

“Besides,” she adds, “your brother has to have an Alpha of Record by law. Is there anyone other than you who—”

“No,” Sam snarls.

Dr Perry lifts her chin and smiles knowingly.

“Okay, fine,” Sam says. “I’ll talk to him. But I’m not going to force him into anything he’s not comfortable with.”

“Not even to save his life?”

Sam shifts uncomfortably in his seat. He folds his arms across his chest and glares at her.

“C’mon,” she says. “I’ll take you to him.”

They get up and make their way down the corridor, the Security Guards falling into step behind them.

“He probably just needs some time,” Dr Perry says. “You know, to accept his designation and everything it entails.”

One of the guards snorts. “He probably just needs a good spanking. Omega males can get ideas above their station if they’re not kept properly in their place.”

Sam whirls on him fast and his him pinned against the wall of the corridor before he’s even had time to blink.

“Step back, Alpha,” says the other guard, un-holstering his Taser.    

Sam lets loose a low, quiet growl. The spike of fear he smells is gratifying.

“I don’t like that kind of talk,” he tells the guy he has pinned. “It’s disrespectful.”

“Alpha,” the other guard warns, and Sam lets go and steps back, his hands held up in the air.

“That was inappropriate, Lucas,” Dr Perry says, and she sounds pissed. She sounds a lot more Alpha than Omega too. Huh.

The guard—Lucas—bows his head. “I apologize,” he says.

Sam accepts the apology with a sharp nod and they continue down the corridor to the ward where Dean is being kept. It’s a four bed ward, but only two are currently occupied. Dean’s is closest to the door and the green curtain around his bed is only partially closed. He lights up when he sees Sam and then wilts a little when he sees the doctor.

“I’ll leave you two to talk,” Dr Perry says, before retreating.

The guards stay posted outside the door.

Sam pulls up a chair and sits down beside Dean’s bed. He takes a shallow, subtle sniff and…huh. Dr Perry was right. Dean’s scent is faint and there’s an underlying bouquet of sickness, but the apple, cinnamon and caramel that he can smell complements his own burnt orange, ginger and maple perfectly.  

“You scared the hell outta me, man,” he says.

Dean snorts. “You talk to the doc?”

“Yeah.”

“So you know…?”

“Yeah.”

Dean clenches his jaw and then swallows. “Fuck. So I guess you’re here as my _Alpha_ to tell me what you’re gonna make me do, huh?”

It’s said in a deep angry growl, but Sam knows his brother and he can hear the hurt and the fear in his brother’s voice.

“The doctor says that if you don’t stop taking the suppressants, if you don’t allow yourself to have a Heat, then you’ll probably die.”

Dean raises his chin. “My body, my choice, Sam.”

“Of course,” Sam agrees. “Look, Dean, I just got through a year thinking that you were dead. Again. And I functioned. Better than I did last time you were dead, anyway. But I wasn’t happy.”

Sam hangs his head, hides his face behind his bangs and tries his hardest not to tear up.

“Sammy,” Dean begins, but Sam shakes his head.

“Let me finish. I am not okay with you dying. I am not okay with being completely alone. Having no-one. And I don’t understand why you would choose to die rather than experience a Heat. But if that’s your choice, I’ll back your play. If you want to stay on the Suppressants, you’ll have my full support.”

“Sammy,” Dean says, his voice cracking just a little.

Sam looks up and lets his brother see the tears in his eyes.

“Sammy,” Dean says again, and this time he sounds distraught.

A moment later Sam finds himself pulled into a fierce hug. And then his brother’s nose is buried in his neck, scenting him.

Sam follows suit, setting his nose against his brother’s neck and breathing in the sweet, calming scent of him. Sam closes his eyes and basks in the wonder of it, enjoys the sense of completeness that’s filling him and tries not to think about how quickly it’s all going to be ripped away from him.

Finally, after what seems like an eternity, Dean shifts restlessly in Sam’s grip and then clears his throat.

“What’s with the security out front, huh?”

Sam pulls back and looks at his brother. “I, uh, may have gotten a little growly out there. I was worried.”

A guilty shadow flits across Dean’s face. “So why’s that guard giving _me_ death stares?”

Sam turns to where Lucas is hovering in the doorway and glowers and the Beta retreats, removing himself to a position where he can’t be seen. He turns back to Dean who’s looking at him fondly.

“Beta who’s an Alpha-wanna-be, right?” Dean says knowingly. “Gave you some fucked up advice on how you should treat your misbehaving Omega?”

“Something like that,” Sam admits. “If it’s any consolation my reaction to that advice nearly made him pee himself!”

Dean grins brightly and then, almost as if a switch has been flipped, all the lightness and humor drains from his face.

“You okay?” Sam grabs both of Dean’s hands and stares into his eyes.

“Stomach cramp,” Dean mutters.

“You want me to get the doctor?”

Dean shakes his head. He waves at the drip stand. “They’re already doing everything they can. The cramps’ll keep up until I go into Heat.”

Sam looks up, slowly, hopefully. “Until you go into Heat? So…you’re planning to…go into Heat?”

Dean sighs. “Yeah, well, last time I actually died for real you got addicted to demon blood. And let’s not forget that the only reason you lost me, was because I couldn’t deal with losing _you_ and sold my damn soul. I don’t want to leave you alone here, Sam. And if that means going through a Heat,” he scrunches his nose up. “I guess I can deal.”

Sam can’t keep the delighted smile off his face. “That’s awesome. Thank you. Oh, hey, I think Dr Perry might be an Alpha. She’s pretty cute, right? Maybe the two of you could hook up?”

Sam is beyond stunned when his brother smacks him upside the head.

“Does this thing even work?” he says, slapping Sam on the nose.

“Ow! What the hell?” Sam rubs at his nose.

“Now that my scent blockers have been washed off and they’re pumping me full of hormones, don’t tell me you didn’t notice how complementary our scents are?”

Sam flushes. “I noticed. You smell amazing.”

Dean huffs. “Could be there’s a really good biological reason we’ve always been so psychotically co-dependent.”

Sam is so filled with hope that he’s terrified to speak in case he’s wrong. But he has to know. “What are you saying, Dean?”

Dean rolls his eyes. “And people think you’re the smart one,” he shakes his head. “I’m saying that if I have to go through the fucked up humiliation of going into Heat, there’s only one Alpha in the world I’d trust to see me through it safely, and that’s you, Sammy.”

All up, Dean spends three days in hospital, hooked up to a cocktail of hormones and pain killers designed to trick his body into thinking that he’s cycling normally. Dean would be worried about the nearly $7,000.00 in costs they’ve been quoted if Tom Smith actually existed, but he doesn’t, which means they can just run out on the charges if they need to. Sam, though, the big Alpha lunkhead, has decided that they don’t want to burn their bridges with Smith County Memorial, because it _is_ the closest hospital to the bunker and they might need its services again one day. So he’s set up a payment plan with the hospital which they’re going to pay off in instalments, using cash advances from fake credit cards.

When Dean is discharged, any minute now, Dean will go home with a prescription for a three month supply of oral HRT drugs, which he’ll stop taking the second his Heat hits, and a one month supply of Motrin-800 for the cramps.  Dr Perry wrote the prescriptions up for him yesterday.

Dean is actually kind of bummed that Dr Perry isn’t on today, because he’s come to like her and Sammy’s instincts were spot on: she _is_ an Alpha female. Dean knows this because when she came to give him the scripts yesterday, she sat down with him for a chat about being a minority designation and then gave him some brochures about support groups; which Dean would like to go on record as stating he will _never_ attend. Support groups give him the jeebs.

Dean is still waiting for Sam when lunch arrives and he’s never been one to turn down food, so he gets stuck into the chicken casserole, even though he ordered the beef stroganoff. At least he got pie today— _finally_!—after two days of ordering it and getting Jello.

Dean is midway through his apple pie when Sam turns up with a doctor in tow and Dean is immediately on guard, because Sam’s scent has turned acrid. The doctor—a Beta—also smells…off.

“What’s going on?” Dean asks.

“Nothing,” Sam replies shortly.

The doctor huffs. “You’re being irresponsible. He should be made aware of all his options.”

“He’s aware of all his options,” Sam says tightly. “And he’s made his decision.”

“He’s standing right here,” Dean snaps. “What’s going on?”

“There are other options for dealing with your Heat. I want to make sure you’ve considered them,” the doctor says quickly.

Sam growls.

“Sam’s right,” Dean says. “I’ve made my decision.”

The doctor frowns at Sam. “I thought your name was John?”

Oops. Dean’s eyes widen at his slip-up.

“John Samuel,” Sam says smoothly. “Our Dad was John too, so I go by my middle name.”

The doctor’s lip curls. “You say _our Dad_ and yet you’re still planning to share a Heat together. It’s an abomination.” He turns to Dean. “I’ve advised your Alpha-brother to put you in a Heat Clinic where you’d be mounted by several different _unrelated_ Alphas until you catch. It’d do you good to pop out a pup and the baby would be adopted by a worthy Beta couple. You’d be financially compensated,” he turns back to Sam. “I know money’s tight for you, so that’s got to be something worth considering.”

Dean gets up and steps in between Sam and the doctor so that Sam won’t go for the doctor’s throat.

“Lemme get this straight,” Dean says to the doctor, his tone deceptively casual. “You think, as my doctor, that it’s medically best for me to be handed over to be pack raped until I’m pregnant and then you think I should sell my child? Is that right?”

Behind him, he hears Sam growl. The doctor pales.

“Well now,” he blusters. “It’s hardly rape, is it? You Omegas don’t care whose knot you get when you’re in Heat.”

Sam growls again and the scent of fear emitting from the doctor becomes even stronger.

“So if someone roofied you, gave you drugs to make you want it, and then fucked you without your prior consent, it wouldn’t be rape?”

The doctor’s face is pinched tight with anger. “That’s different and you know it.”

Dean shakes his head. “Nope. Just because Omegas’ bodies make a natural roofie, that doesn’t equal consent. Consent has to come before the Heat kicks in, otherwise it’s just rape.”

The doctor mutters something under his breath about liberal snowflakes and the good ol’ days when Omegas knew their place and then says loudly, “Be that as it may, the fact that you’re planning to _consent_ to your brother, doesn’t make it right. In fact it makes it much worse. If you were just getting carried away by the pheromones that’d be one thing, but to _choose_ incest? That truly is an abomination.”

“You’re a Beta, right?” Dean says.

The doctor nods. “But I don’t see what that’s got to--”

Dean cuts him off. “It means you can’t really scent pheromones like we can. If you could, you’d know that Sam and I are actually very biologically compatible. So the fact that we’re related isn’t an issue for the health of our offspring. We’re not Betas. Our biology is different. As a doctor, you know that.”

“He has an Orygen symbol on his wrist,” Sam says, his voice thick with disdain.

Dean’s eyebrows lift. “A Beta supremacist? Why am I not surprised?” He shakes his head. “Let’s go, Sammy.”

He picks up his duffle bag and stalks from the room.

“Some Alpha you are, letting your bitch talk to you like that,” the doctor sneers.

Sam shakes his head. “You’re such a pathetic loser,” he says as he follows his brother from the room.

Thankfully, Dean doesn’t even ask to drive, which Sam is grateful for, because he really didn’t want to have that argument. They stop at a pharmacy on the way back to the bunker and Sam uses a fake credit card to pay for Dean’s meds. The Alpha behind the counter doesn’t even question why Alpha Jon Bonham is buying strong pain killers and the drugs necessary to trigger a Heat using a prescription in the name of Omega Tom Smith. It irritates Sam, even though it would’ve caused trouble for him and Dean and their fake credit card if the pharmacist had shown appropriate concern. 

When Sam gets back to the car, Dean is curled up against the door, clutching his stomach.

“You okay?” Sam asks.

Dean smiles wanly and holds his hand out for the small white paper bag. Sam hands it over and then watches as Dean punches out a Motrin tablet and swallows it dry.

Sam starts the car and accelerates.

“Can I get you anything?” he asks Dean when they enter the bunker.

“Nah,” Dean shakes his head. “I think I’m just gonna go to my room and lay down.”

“Okay,” Sam hovers in the library for a moment and then slowly follows his brother to his bedroom, waiting for the explosion. He counts in his head. One. Two. Thre-

_“What the fuck, Sam?”_

Sam hurries down the corridor. “I can explain,” he says.

Dean turns and glowers. “Why is there a Queen sized bed in my room? _Where is my memory foam mattress_?”

Sam takes a deep breath. “So remember how Dr Perry said that lots of body contact between us would help to soothe the cramps?”

“No!” Dean spits, shaking his head furiously.

Sam frowns. “You don’t remember?”

“I remember what she said,” Dean growls. He pokes Sam in the chest. “But I’m not giving up my private space. This is my room, Sam. Mine. It’s my…my…” he trails off uncertainly.

“It’s your _den_ ,” Sam says. “I know, Dean. It’s where you feel safest. And I get that. I do. That’s why the big bed is in here. I still have my own room. But when you…need me, I can come to you. We’re both big guys, Dean. This will be more comfortable than trying to squish into your old single bed.”

The expression on Dean’s face is very blank and hard to decipher.

“What kind of mattress is it?” he asks finally.

“It’s memory foam,” Sam rushes to reassure him. “It’ll remember you, just like the old one. And if you let me sleep here sometimes, maybe it’ll remember me too.”  He flushes slightly as he speaks and peers up at Dean from underneath his bangs.

Dean snorts. “You are _so_ lame, little brother.”

“Only the best for my Om--” he breaks off at Dean’s epic scowl. “For my big brother,” he amends.

Dean smiles, eyes crinkling, genuine and warm. “Get outta here, bitch. I need a nap.”

Sam rolls his eyes as expected, but his own smile is as warm as Dean’s. “You’re such a jerk, Dean,” he says fondly.

Sam hadn’t even realized there was so much tension in his brother’s shoulders until Dean relaxes.

He thinks on it as he heads down the hallway toward the kitchen. Maybe Dean was worried that his Alpha brother would want to forgo the trademark insults they’d used since childhood. Maybe he’d been worried that Sam would tell Dean that _he_ was the bitch; after all he was the one with the womb. It was a test, Sam decides, throw the word out there and see how Sam responded. Sam smiles sadly. Well at least Dean now knows that nothing has changed. He’ll always be _jerk_ to Sam.

Dean sleeps for almost two hours. He’s hot and thirsty when he wakes up and his stomach feels queasy. He reaches for his cell phone and his brother’s anxious tone when he answers would make Dean chuckle if he weren’t feeling like shit.

“Yeah, I’m okay,” he says before Sam can stink up the whole place with Alpha worry. “Could you maybe bring me a drink?”

Sam asks him what he’d like and Dean seriously considers asking for a beer, but he’d probably throw up if he tried to drink it so he admits that his stomach isn’t feeling too good and asks if Sam ever got around to getting the ginger ale that Dr Perry recommended.  

Sam hurries into Dean’s room less than five minutes later with a glass of ginger ale and a plate of Ritz crackers. He sets them down on Dean’s nightstand and then turns to him with such an earnest face that Dean almost laughs.

“Do you need anything else? A bucket? A heat pack?”

According to legend, there was a time, long, long ago, recorded nowhere except for ancient cave paintings, when people could shift into wolf form. Dean isn’t sure whether he believes the legends or not.

As a Hunter he knows that there _are_ people who can shift into wolf form, are forced to, in fact, every full moon. But werewolves aren’t in charge of themselves when they shift. They become dangerous, vicious, mindless, animals and have to be put down. The legends, however, speak of a time when everyone could shift at will, and when they stayed in complete control of their faculties no matter what form they were in.

Dean supposes that his mind is more open than most people’s, given that he knows how much of the supernatural actually exists. And it would, possibly, explain the knots. After all, no other primate has them, only canines.

It would also, he thinks, explain how Sammy can manage to look so much like a puppy dog.

“Dean?” his little brother says; his tone uncertain.

Dean shrugs and takes another sip of the ginger ale. He thinks the drink is helping. He’s still feeling hot, though, and there’s a sort of buzzing, tingling feeling underneath his skin. Dean remembers Dr Perry telling him that the touch of his Alpha would help soothe a lot of his discomfort. He wrinkles his nose.  He also remembers her telling him that his Alpha was going to want a lot of body contact with him, because Alphas were hardwired to react to their Omega’s stress.

And looking at Sammy, standing beside his bed with his hands tucked under his armpits and a forlorn (some may say _hangdog_ ) expression on his face, Dean figures it’s taking everything his little brother has to stop himself from scooping Dean into his arms for a heavy duty cuddle session.

Dean sighs. And then pats the bed beside him.

Sam raises a quizzical eyebrow. In fact, he looks almost scared.

“Uh…what?” the Alpha says uncertainly.

Dean inclines his head and think back on what he just said. Well. Gestured. All he did was…invite his Alpha into his bed.

Dean lets his head thunk back against the pillow standing on its end behind him.

“I was just thinking,” he says carefully, “that we could sit together, and, I dunno, watch a movie on your laptop or something?”

Sam nods thoughtfully. “We could do that. I’ve got Netflix on my laptop.”

“Cool. So we’ll Netflix and chill, right?”

Sam gapes at him. “Dude, you do realize that’s a euphemism for casual sex, right?”

Dean scowls at his brother, because, yes, okay, he did know that, but he doesn’t know how to say _I want you to come and cuddle me_ without actually saying _I want you to come and cuddle me_ and he thought Netflix and chill might get the point across without him having to come across as a _needy_ Omega. But no, Sammy has to be all Mr-Etymology-of-the-expression-man and…Dean’s inner monologue is interrupted by an exasperated huff.

“I’ll go get my laptop,” Sam says, before practically running from the room.

Dean nods to himself. “That went well,” he says out loud.

Sam is back in less than a minute and he only hesitates for a moment before climbing over Dean and up onto the bed like the giant puppy Dean knows he really is.

Sam boots up Netflix and they squabble over what to watch, with Sam finally caving and agreeing to a Dr Sexy marathon even though he’d really wanted to watch a documentary series about serial killers.

Sam stays on top of the covers, but once Dr Sexy is strutting his stuff on screen, Dean stealthily manoeuvres things so that his thigh and shoulder is pressed up against Sam. It’s instantly soothing and he knows Sam feels it too, because the giant lunkhead turns and smiles at Dean with the sappiest expression Dean has ever seen. And Dean would totally call him on it too, except that Sam decides to throw an arm around his shoulders and pull him close, so that Dean is half sitting on his brother’s lap and his head is resting against Sam’s toned Alpha chest. Dean feels his blood stream flood with endorphins. He doesn’t think he’s ever felt this calm; this content; in his entire life.

And then Dean’s Omega channel clenches and his lower abdomen spasms with pain and Dean gasps and hunches in on himself.

“What’s wrong?” Sam is instantly alert.

“Stomach hurts,” Dean says, closing his eyes against the pain.

There’s a brief moment of jostling and then Sam is under the covers and one of his hands is splayed out against Dean’s lower abdomen, like a giant hand-shaped heat pack. It’s instantly soothing and Dean buries his nose against Sam’s throat and breathes in his scent.

“Dr Perry gave me some tips,” Sam says quietly. “I’m not gonna let you suffer Dean. Whatever I can do to make this easier on you, I’m gonna do. You’re my brother and I love you. I’d kill for you and I’d die for you, and sometimes the lengths I know we’d both go to for each other scare me.  But this? This is the most _right_ we’ve ever been. There is nothing I won’t do to help you through this, Dean, because you and me? We belong together.”

Dean thinks he should say something, but there are tears pricking at his closed eyelids and he doesn’t trust his voice not to wibble if he tries to speak. Goddamn hormones. 

The best thing, Dean decides, is to fake being asleep. So he does. And he obviously does an awesome job of it, because the next thing he knows, he’s blinking his eyes open, the room is completely dark and Sam is lying half on top of him. Dean wiggles experimentally and yep, that is definitely a huge, hard Alpha cock pressed up against his thigh.

Dean takes a moment to take stock and decides that he feels okay. He’s a little thirsty and a lot hungry and he needs to take a leak, but he’s not in any pain. 

“Sammy!” Dean elbows his brother in the ribs and Sam jerks awake.

“Get off me. I need to take a leak.”

Sam rolls off him and then gets out of bed.

Dean plants his feet on the floor and raises an eyebrow. “Where do you think you’re going?”

Sam bites at his bottom lip, his expression sheepish. “I won’t come in,” he says. “I’ll just wait outside.”

“No,” Dean says. “I don’t need an escort to the john.”

“I’m just worried about you collapsing again.”

Dean scowls. “Stay here,” he says.

Not that it does any good. He’s midstream when he scents Sam hovering in the corridor outside and he rolls his eyes and shakes his head. As he washes his hands, Dean realizes that he’s equal parts comforted and annoyed by Sam’s behavior, so he decides that he won’t give Sam too hard a time about it. Besides, from Sam’s perspective, his Omega is due to go into Heat, it’s bound to be having an impact on his protective Alpha instincts.

So Dean only bitches at Sam a little. Until, that is, Sam forbids him from going into the kitchen to make them a late supper.

“Just because you’re an Alpha, doesn’t mean you get to tell me what I can and can’t do,” Dean yells. “If I want to make us some supper, I’m gonna damn well make us some supper! So you can take you’re Goddamn sexist Alpha bullshit and shove it up…” Dean breaks off as his abdomen cramps and spasms and his Omega channel clenches tight.

“Fuck!” he doubles over, completely floored by the intensity of the pain.

Sam’s arms are around him immediately. “I’ve got you,” he says, and Dean sags against him. “And I’m sorry if I’m coming across like a douchebag Alpha. I just don’t want to find you passed out on the kitchen floor again.”

Another spasm hits and Dean would’ve collapsed completely if Sam hadn’t been holding him up.

Sam half drags him back to the bedroom and gets him tucked into bed. He keeps one hand on Dean’s lower belly, rubbing soothingly, and he uses his other hand to fumble his cell phone out of his pocket and make a call.

“Dr Perry? It’s Sam Smith.”

Dean is too busy clenching his teeth to keep from whimpering to pay a lot of attention to the phone conversation, but he does note that Sam doesn’t seem too happy when he hangs up.

“M’I dying?” Dean asks.

Sam shakes his head. “Your body’s trying to go into Heat,” he says. “But because you’ve been supressing your Heats and messing with your hormone levels for over twenty years, your Omega channel has become rigid and inflexible. The way Dr Perry explained it, the pain you’re experiencing is most likely due to the fact that your ova have now come down into your womb, but your Omega channel isn’t opening at either end, like it should, which means your channel isn’t getting slick and you can’t be penetrated.  Until your channel opens properly, your body won’t allow you to go into Heat.”

Dean blinks. “So I _am_ gonna die?”

Sam shakes his head again. “Dr Perry made some suggestions about things we can do to get your channel to soften up.”

Dean squints at his brother. He notes the way Sam’s cheeks are flushed and the way he won’t quite meet Dean’s eyes. “I get the feeling I’m not gonna like these suggestions,” Dean says with a sigh.

Sam bites at his bottom lip and looks sheepish. “Probably not,” he admits.

 

It’s official. Sam will never be able to go into the Lebanon Pharmacy ever again. The look of envy and lechery on the late night pharmacist’s face when he rang up Sam’s purchases made Sam sick to the stomach, because he _knows_ what it looks like. It looks like he’s a raging Alpha asshole, trying to force a young Omega into their first Heat, way ahead of time. But Sam will be damned if he’s going to explain Dean’s medical condition to anyone, let alone some Alpha who clearly approves of child abuse.

And now, Sam has to actually go through with this; has to give Dean an enema with an anti-inflammatory drug, in order to relieve his pain and relax the muscles in his abdominal area. Dr Perry said that such enemas often produced good results, successfully enabling hardened Omega channels to soften and open up. Once Dean’s Omega channel is relaxed enough, Sam will hopefully be able introduce the same solution inside of there and encourage it to soften enough to dilate fully, allowing him to go into Heat.

“Are you just gonna stand there glaring at that hose?” Dean says, “or are we actually gonna do this?”

He’s sitting on the bed with a bunch of towels beside him, wearing nothing but his favorite Deadman’s robe. He looks kind of nervous, but in typical Dean-fashion, he’s covering up his tension with bravado.

“We’re gonna do this,” Sam assure him. “It’s just…well…this situation…it’s a little uncomfortable for both of us, right?”

Dean huffs out a laugh. “When have our lives ever been easy, Sammy?  But you are literally the only person in the world I would trust to do this, so suck it up little brother. Besides, you don’t got the hard part here.”

Privately, Sam thinks that’s debatable, but then Dean is shucking the Deadman’s robe and spreading out the towels and then he’s head down, ass up on the bed with his legs spread wide and Sam’s brain pretty much goes offline as his inner Alpha starts chanting _mine, mine, mine_ and _take, take, take_.  

“Take your time, Sammy,” Dean snarks. “Ain’t like I’m feeling exposed and vulnerable here or anything.”

Sam drags himself from his stupor and gets with the program, feeling just a tad ashamed of himself for his instinctive reaction. He lubes up the nozzle of the hose and inserts it, talking Dean through what he’s doing the whole time. He releases the valve that will start the medicated solution flowing slowly into Dean and then he resumes the Dr Sexy marathon and sits beside Dean on the bed to watch.

Sam keeps his eyes fixed on the screen, but all of his attention is on Dean, and he couldn’t have told anyone what Dr Sexy and his cohorts were up to if his life depended on it. Dean’s chin is propped on his folded arms and his lips are slightly parted. Every now and then his hips wriggle a bit.

“Dude,” Dean says. “I gotta go to the john.”

“That’s just the pressure,” Sam reassures him. “I know it feels weird, you’ve just gotta wait it out.”

Dean snorts. “Weird. Yeah. It doesn’t hurt, but I feel really full.”

Sam looks back at the stand. The bag that’s attached to the hose empties while he’s looking at it.

“Okay,” he tells Dean. “The solution’s all in. Ten more minutes to let it do its thing and we’re done.”

Dean wrinkles his nose and wriggles his hips again. “Feels heavy,” he says. “But kind of…good?”

He sounds puzzled and Sam can’t help smiling. “The medicated solution is supposed to help everything down there relax, so yeah, hopefully that _will_ feel good.”

“It’s making me feel kind of…floaty,” Dean says after a moment.

Seven minutes later, Sam helps Dean waddle into the bathroom. He lets him use the toilet in private.

Well. ‘Lets’ is perhaps overstating it. Dean is pretty insistent and Sam has no doubt that Dean could kick his ass if he wanted to, so he backs off.

As they make their way back to the bedroom, Sam scents Dean subtly. He smells really good. But most importantly, he’s starting to smell _healthy_.  

Dean gets back up on the bed and Sam gets nervous again. This is the part where he might accidentally hurt Dean, and it’s a scary thought, and not just because Dean might bust his balls if he hurts him. Sam’s far more scared of betraying Dean’s trust than he is of being hurt himself.

He takes a deep breath.

“Okay,” he says. “So I gotta… um…you, um, ever been touched, there?”

Dean huffs. “Hell no.”

Sam nods. “You haven’t touched yourself there?”

“Why would I do that? I got a perfectly good cock for jerking off.”

“Right. Well. Can you, uh, spread your legs a little wider? I kinda gotta…take a look?”

Dean snorts. “You telling me or asking me?”

Sam can feel his face turning red. “I mean, I do need to take a look, but I guess I’m also asking for permission to touch you there. Is that okay, Dean?”

There’s a long moment of silence. “Yeah,” Dean says finally. “I trust you, Sammy.”

He spreads his legs a little wider and tilts his hips.  The entrance to Dean’s Omega channel is still clenched tight. It doesn’t seem to have dilated at all.

“Okay,” Sam says. “I’m just gonna…touch it.”

It feels soft, much to Sam’s relief. “Okay, good,” he says. “That’s good.”

He unwraps a clean hose and attaches it to another bag of the medicated solution. He lubes up the nozzle and then hesitates.

“This might be a bit uncomfortable.”

Dean doesn’t respond, so Sam slowly and carefully pushes the tiny nozzle against the very tight opening. Fortunately, it’s soft enough to part with little resistance. Dean gasps.

“Fuck,” he says, his voice tight.

“Does it hurt?”

“Scale of one to ten? Not really. It’s more…uncomfortable,” Dean takes a deep breath. “I’ve spent my whole life pretending that little hole doesn’t exist,” he huffs out a laugh. “Fuck if I know how that massive Alpha cock of yours is supposed to fit in there.”

“You’re supposed to dilate when you go into Heat. The top end opens to let the slick out and the sperm up into the womb and the bottom end opens to, well, you know.”

“Let the massive Alpha cock in?” Dean says dryly.

If Sam flushes any more he’s going to spontaneously combust.

“Huh,” Dean says a moment later. “This actually feels really good. Like, I’ve always had a kind of…ache down there, but this is making it go away.”

“Everything’s softening up,” Sam says. “It should’ve just happened naturally when we got your hormones back in balance, but I guess it’d just been too hard for too long and it needed some extra help.”

The minutes pass and then once again, Sam helps Dean waddle to the toilet and, once again he waits outside while Dean empties himself.

Dean smells even better; even healthier; than he did earlier and his scent has sharpened, in the tell-tale sign of pre heat.  It shouldn’t be long now.

Dean pulls on his sweatpants and a tee shirt and this time, when Dean climbs into bed, he holds the quilt open and invites Sam in beside him. Sam goes without hesitation.

Sam is beyond surprised, though, when Dean gathers him into his arms.

“Dr Perry told me you’d need a lot of body contact with me,” Dean says gruffly. “She said your Alpha instincts’d be going nuts wanting to protect ‘your Omega’ and it’d be a big help to you if I let you cuddle me.”

“Right,” Sam says. He can’t quite hide his grin and he awards Dr Perry bonus points for understanding exactly the right thing to say to get his brother on board with the cuddling.

If Dean thought the cuddling was for _him_ , he’d want to tough it out. But for Sam’s benefit? He’d do anything.

Being held by Dean is nice and everything, but it’s not quite want Sam wants, so he turns Dean in his arms, so that his brother is the little spoon, and he scoots up close behind him and wraps his arms around him, resting a hand lightly against his belly.

Sam winces. On second thoughts, this may have been a bad idea. He’s been hard since he woke up beside Dean earlier in the evening and now he’s pressed up against his Omega’s ass. Sam bites his lip and resists the temptation to rut against his brother.

Hey, Sam?” Dean says.

And then he shoves his ass back against Sam’s cock and begins to circle his hips.

Sam hisses and pulls away. “Don’t do that?”

“Why not?” Dean sounds utterly perplexed.

“Because you’re not in Heat yet,” Sam explains. “I don’t want to risk hurting you.”

Dean rolls so that he’s facing Sam. “ _Seriously_? You seriously think you might hurt me?”

Sam purses his lips. “It’s not that I _think_ I’ll hurt you,” he says, meeting Dean’s eyes honestly and openly, “I’m just really scared that I _might_ hurt you.”

Dean’s only response is to move his head, very slowly, toward Sam until he’s so close they’re almost touching. He keeps his eyes fixed on Sam’s the whole time and then he closes the gap between them, his lips soft against Sam’s. The scent and taste of Dean calms Sam and riles him up at the same time. Nothing has ever felt as right as it feels to hold his brother; his Omega; in his arms and the feeling of well-being and contentment that’s coursing through his entire being is truly the best thing that Sam has ever experienced. Also? His cock is trying to punch its way out of his jeans and Sam is pretty sure that if he doesn’t get some friction on it soon his dick will drop off due to excess blood supply. Or something.

Dean pulls back and Sam whimpers. Dean smiles, and yeah, he knows exactly what effect he’s having on his Alpha.

“People have sex all the time when no-one’s in Heat,” Dean says. “I know for a fact that I can have sex when I’m not in Heat and not get hurt.”

Sam nods his head. “But you’ve never been with an Alpha before.”

Dean inclines his head. “That’s not… _entirely_ …true,” he says. 

Sam will hunt down and kill whichever Alpha touched his Omega! How dare they! Dean is HIS!

“Whoa!” Dean puts a hand against his chest. “Chill, dude. You _know_ I didn’t share a Heat with them. And it’s a funny story, actually. I picked up this chick in a bar, back when I was 19. Rhonda Hurley,” he smiles fondly. “I thought she was a Beta, she thought I was a Beta. We were both wearing blockers, you see. Turns out she was an Alpha and she was pretty excited when she realized she’d picked up an Omega-male. Until she saw that I wasn’t Open yet,” Dean snorted. “Still ended up being a good night. I fucked her, Beta style, and then she asked if she could, you know, go in the back door. Said she didn’t get to use her cock much; said she’d heard anal felt really good for Omegas,” Dean shrugs. “I felt kinda bad for her, you know? So I said yes. It _was_ actually pretty good, but I never did it again.”

“Why not?”

Dean shrugs again. “I never hooked up with another Alpha-female. And I’ve never hooked up with a guy before.”

“Why not?” Sam asks again.

“Because if someone’s fucking _me_ , they’re gonna see the other hole. Gonna figure out I’m an Omega. Beta women are just easier. Rhonda was a mistake and I was lucky she didn’t Out me,” Dean bites at his lip. “Also? Alpha-females have tiny cocks. When it comes to a male cock, the only guy I’d trust not to hurt me is you.”

“Okay,” Sam breathes, his voice a little shaky. “How do you want to do this?”

Dean’s grin broadens. “Well first, I wanna see you,” he waggles his eyebrows and stares pointedly at Sam’s groin.

Sam doesn’t hesitate to climb out of bed and strip off his jeans, tee-shirt, socks and underwear with clinical efficiency. As soon as he peels his briefs down, his cock springs free, flushed and fully erect.

“Whoa,” says Dean.

He’s been sitting up and watching Sam’s striptease with lust blown eyes. Now, though, he looks a little scared.

“There is no way,” Dean says, “that thing’s gonna fit in my ass.”

“It will with the right prep,” Sam says. “But we don’t have to. There are other things we can do instead.”

Dean nods. He bites at his lips and takes a deep breath. “Fuck it. I really wanna try. I just…if I tell you to stop, you gotta listen.”

“Of course. I promise. Always.”

Sam clambers back into bed. “You’re wearing too many clothes,” he tells Dean.

Dean takes off his tee-shirt and then lies on his back, lifts his hips and yanks off his sweatpants.

Sam and Dean have always lived in close quarters. They’ve seen each other shower and change more times than they can count, but they’ve always politely avoided looking at each other’s private parts, so this is the first opportunity Sam has had to take a good look at his brother’s cock. And he’s gotta be honest, it’s really hard to believe that Dean isn’t a Beta. Not that he’s ever seen an Omega-male’s cock before. Not in the flesh anyway. He’s seen some porn though and in porn, Omega cocks are always tiny. Dean is most assuredly _not_ tiny.

“Wow!” Sam says.

Dean smirks. “Now who’s confusing reality and porn? Not all Omega-males have small dicks, Sammy.”

 “I see that. What did Rhonda have to say?”

Dean laughs. “She was pretty pissed. An Omega with a bigger dick than an Alpha? Yeah, she wasn’t happy. I think that’s why…” he breaks off, his cheeks flushing.

“You think that’s why what?” Sam queries. “What did she do? She didn’t hurt you did she?”

Dean rolls his eyes. “Really, Sam? _Hunter_ here. Of course she didn’t hurt me, Alpha or not. She just kinda,” Dean rubs a hand across the back of his neck. “Made me put on her pink satin panties. And then she sorta…spanked me. In a playful, erotic way. I…kinda liked it,” Dean shrugs. “I think she just needed something _extra_ to feel like a big dominant Alpha with me, you know?”

He eyes Sam critically. “I know I always call you an emo college boy, but I seriously doubt you have any issues in the _Alpha_ department, if you know what I mean.”

Sam bites back a smile. “So I don’t get to spank you?”

Dean raises an eyebrow. “Rhonda had a tiny dick _and_ tiny hands. Getting your ass slapped during sex by a girl wearing a Zorro mask is one thing. Getting your ass beat black and blue by those giant shovels you call hands is something else.”

Sam frowns. “She wore a Zorro mask?”

Dean huffs in irritation. “That’s not the point. Look, can I suck your dick or not?”

Sam’s dick strains enthusiastically at the suggestion, but he shakes his head. “Better not,” he says. “I’m too keyed up. I don’t wanna knot your mouth and I don’t wanna lie here coming into a towel for forty minutes either.”

“Okay,” Dean reaches into the bedside drawer and pulls out a tube of Astroglide. “You want me to or…?”

Sam takes the tube from him and tells him to lie back.

Dean’s eyebrows draw together. “You don’t want me ass up, on my knees?”

Sam shakes his head. “I wanna see your face. Also, I wanna do this,” and he sucks Dean’s dick into his mouth and straight down his throat.

“Holy fuck!” Dean yells, thrusting up and making Sam choke and gag.

Sam pulls back a little and holds Dean’s hips down.

“Sorry,” Dean says. And then Sam reduces him to moans and gasps.

Dean has the nicest cock that Sam has ever seen. Not that he’s seen many. So far, the few sexual partners he’s had have all been Omega women. Aside from the odd glance in locker rooms, he hasn’t seen many Beta cocks, but Sam thinks that Dean would be considered well-endowed, even for a Beta. His own Alpha cock is much bigger, but it’s uglier too. Alpha cocks are fat, veiny and knobbly, thick and ridged at the base where their knots swell to lock them tight inside their partners, keep all that sperm inside. Dean, in contrast is smooth and sleek, with a pretty mushroom head and no ugly bulges and bumps. 

“Sam! Sam!” Dean pushes as his shoulders. “Gonna…fuck…gonna come…you gotta stop…”

Sam pulls off. He squeezes some lube onto his middle finger and slowly, carefully pushes it up into Dean’s ass. Dean chokes back a moan and goes limp.

“Okay?” Sam asks.

Dean nods. “Feels good.”

Dean’s warm and smooth inside and thanks to the enema, Sam knows he’s clean. He finds Dean’s prostate and pushes against it, making Dean gasp.

“So fucking good, Sammy.”

Sam pulls his finger out, adds more lube and goes back in with two.

“Fuck yeah,” Dean says. “More’s better. Can feel you rubbing up against my channel. Feels so good.”

This is precisely why Dr Perry had suggested trying anal first, if Dean’s Omega-channel was still too tight to penetrate. The two cavities are right next to each other and stimulating one also stimulates the other.

Sam pulls his fingers out of Dean, slops lube all over his cock, pushes Dean’s knees back so that they’re beside his ears and then lines himself up.

“Do it,” Dean says. His eyes are big and black and he’s breathing hard.

Sam pushes forward, slowly, inexorably, keeping his eyes fixed on Dean’s. He sees the moment it starts to hurt his brother and stops moving.

“Just need a minute,” Dean pants.

Moments tick by. Sam feels it the second Dean relaxes around him and he surges forward, burying himself to the hilt in one swift push. Dean cries out and Sam leans down and kisses him, swallowing his pained groan.

“You’re okay,” Sam whispers against Dean’s lips. “I’ve got you.”

“Hurts,” Dean says.  

“I’m sorry. It’ll feel good again soon.”

“So fuckin’ big.”

Sam holds himself completely still and waits for Dean’s permission to continue.

Eventually, Dean’s ass flexes and squeezes. Sam hisses. Dean smirks.

“Move, Sammy,” he says.

Sam pulls back tentatively and thrusts back in. Dean’s eyes fall shut and he shudders.

“Okay?” Sam asks.

“Yeah. ‘s good.”

Sam lets go, fucking Dean hard and deep, every thrust punching a breathy moan out of the Omega. Dean gets his hands under his knees and pulls his legs wider apart, lifts his ass higher, and Sam loses it, pounding in deep and swivelling his hips. His abs are rubbing against Dean’s cock with every thrust and Dean is squirming and wriggling his own hips until finally, he cries out and there’s something warm and wet dribbling down Sam’s stomach. Sam feels his knot begin to swell and Dean cries out again, his own cock spurting out a little more come as Sam begins to pulse inside him, the base of his dick swelling and locking them together.

Sam lies down and then rolls them onto their side. They lie facing each other and Dean grimaces as Sam shoots another load deep inside of him.

“My ass is ruined,” he says.

Sam winces. “Does it hurt?”

Dean shrugs. “Stings a bit. Around the rim. Your knot’s fucking huge, man.”

“Sorry,” Sam is genuinely contrite and Dean can tell, if his wicked smile is anything to go by.

“You’re bringing me breakfast in bed tomorrow, Bitch,” he says. “And you’re pampering the fuck out of me too.”

“Sure thing, Princess,” Sam smirks.

Dean rolls his eyes. “You can call me what you like, so long as we’re clear who’s the royalty and who’s here to _serve_ the royalty.” He closes his eyes. “Wake me up when you’re done filling up my ass.”

Sam can’t help leaning forward and kissing Dean gently on the forehead.

“Jerk,” Dean mutters, but he’s smiling so Sam figures they’re good.

“Hey, Dean?” he says.

Dean snuffles out a vague _hmmm_.

“I just wanna make sure we’re on the same page here. When you go into Heat, I can bite you, right? Make this thing permanent?”

Dean’s eyes fly open. “You want that?”

Sam nods. “More than anything.”

Dean stares at him for a very long time, before finally nodding. “Okay,” he says. “I guess we can do that.”

 

Everything hurts. His ass hurts most of all, but his whole body aches all over. And he’s hot. He’s actually sweating, that’s how hot he is. And he doesn’t think it’s because Sam’s body is pressed up against him like a giant furnace either.

Dean opens his eyes and the world is fuzzy. Behind him, Sam snuffles and throws an arm over him and Dean’s stomach spasms. There’s no pain; no deep-seated ache, but there is a throb of _need_ stirring inside him. Dean feels wet. Not surprising really, considering all the come that Sammy seems to ejaculate. He wrinkles his nose. Although…he reaches back tentatively, slips a hand in between himself and Sam (Sam wriggles and huffs in his sleep) and gently pokes at his ass. It feels clean and dry and, okay, it’s a little swollen and puffy, but it’s not gaping like he’d been expecting, so Dean figures that Sam cleaned him up and put some cream on him while he was asleep. Dean frowns. He’s not sure whether to be pissed or pleased.

Dean reaches down lower and finds the source of the wetness. His Omega-channel is fully dilated and he’s dripping slick. Dean can’t help rubbing at the entrance and, _fuck_ , that feels good. He groans. His blood sings. He takes a deep breath, his nostrils flood with _Alpha_ and suddenly Dean is rolling onto his hands and knees, his ass humping the air desperately.

“Sammy!” he smacks a hand against his brother’s chest.

“Whassat?” Sam raises himself up on one elbow and peers at Dean. He frowns. “Dude, you’re in Heat.”

“No shit, Sherlock,” Dean grouches. “Whatcha gonna do about it, _Alpha_?”

Sam responds by slapping his ass, hard. Dean yelps in surprise, but doesn’t complain, because despite the sting, it feels good; sends shockwaves of pleasure rippling deep inside of him.

“Pushy Omega,” Sam says.

“You know it,” Dean wiggles his ass. “And you wouldn’t want me any other way.”

“I really wouldn’t,” Sam says fondly.

And then his hand is _down_ _there_ , touching where no one else has ever touched before, and Dean feels even more slick trickle out of him.

His hips buck without his say-so and Dean leans down, chest on the mattress, ass up, _presenting_ for his Alpha. He’s rutting desperately against the air. He feels feverish and _empty_ and he’s shaking with want; with _need_.   

“Please, Sammy. Need you. Need you inside.”

And Sam, bless him, is right there, the tip of his big Alpha cock pressing against Dean’s fully open Omega-channel, resting, right against where Dean needs him most.

Dean tries to push back, to get that cock inside of him, but Sam’s holding his hips, holding him still.

“Wait,” he says and his tone is threaded with _Alpha_ , compelling Dean to obey. 

“We’ll take it slow,” Sam says. “I don’t wanna hurt you.”

“Then _fuck_ me!” Dean cries. “Please, Alpha. I need it. I’ll be so good for you, please, _God_ , please! Just…put it in me, Alpha, _please_!”

Sam sort of listens. He pushes in slowly, carefully, clearly in _Alpha knows best_ mode and he holds Dean still so that he can’t push back and get that big beautiful cock deep inside him where he needs it.

“Please, Alpha, please!” Dean chants.

And then he bites his pillow to shut his damn mouth, because he barely recognizes the pathetic, needy creature he’s become. This, right here, is what he was afraid of. This is why he’s never wanted to go into Heat. Suddenly Dean is furious.

“Goddamn it, Sam,” he yells. “I may be an Omega, but I know my own mind. I know what I need. If you respect me, stop thinking you know best and fucking well _fuck_ me! Don’t make me beg for it.”

Sam pauses. And then he slams his dick home, every fat inch of it, and Dean yells in triumph, or maybe shock, but the relief is instantaneous and Dean could cry with how good it feels to be filled with Alpha dick; to be fucked relentlessly, deep and hard, as Sam’s veiny cock rubs against his channel in all the right places, soothing the need and driving him wild at the same time.

Dean’s whimpering and whining and he can’t fucking stop himself. Sam’s nailing him just right and it’s absolutely perfect, and then Sam bites down on his neck and Dean howls with pleasure/pain. He feels the bond between them burst open and Sam’s pleasure becomes his and his becomes Sam’s and it’s everything Dean’s ever needed and never wanted, because he’s _owned_ now; he’s Sam’s bitch and he’ll have to _present_ for his Alpha whenever he’s told to, won’t even have a choice.

Sam laves lovingly at the bite mark. “Whatever you’re thinking, stop it,” he says. “I love you. You’re mine,” Dean smells his own scent sour at that, “and I’m yours,” Sam continues, “and nothing will ever happen between us that we don’t both agree to.”

Sam pulls back until only the tip of his cock is still inside of Dean. “Do you want me, Dean? Do you want my knot?”

Dean draws a deep shuddering breath. He can scent Sam’s arousal, but he can’t sense any duplicity, only love and concern.

“I want you, Sammy,” he confirms. “Want your knot.”

Sam pushes back in, carving himself a space inside Dean’s body; inside his heart and soul.

He pounds Dean, but good; giving him the deep hard dicking Dean never realized he’d been craving all his life. Dean’s so close now, right on the edge, but he needs something more to tip him over. He gets it, when he feels Sam’s knot swell, filling his channel, pushing against the walls and making them flutter. For one brief moment, there is bright, startling pain and Dean is sure he’s going to split in two, but then his channel gives and Sam’s knot pulses, and Dean comes with a howl, as Sam locks his channel up tight and lets loose with his own howl, and Dean can feel hot spurts of Alpha come pouring into him, soaking him, and then he’s coming again, a different kind of orgasm, one that doesn’t involve his dick and which hits him so hard that he whites out for a moment.

When he regains the ability to think clearly, Dean’s on his side with Sam’s dick firmly wedged in his channel. He feels content, nothing hurts, and Sam is gently carding through his hair.

“Sam?” he croaks.

Sam stops stroking his hair and Dean misses it.

“You okay?” Sam asks.

“Yeah. How long are we gonna be stuck?”

Sam shugs. “Dunno. Half an hour, forty minutes. Go back to sleep.”

Dean does.

When he wakes up again, several hours later, his blood’s boiling and his skin is crawling and Sam is not in the room.

“Sammy?” he calls.

Sam appears a moment later with a tray of food and a pitcher of iced water.

“Need you,” Dean says, lifting his ass and practically shoving it in Sam’s face.

“Drink some water first,” Sam says.

He holds the glass for Dean and makes him drink it all, before he relents and climbs into bed, kneeling behind Dean and driving into him, fucking him smooth and hard, like a machine.

Sam hand feeds him small pieces of chocolate croissant while they’re tied and makes him drink more water. It’s nice. Dean could get to like this.

The next few days are a blur of fucking, with interludes in between for eating and cleaning up. Dean discovers that his brother is ferocious in the sack, and that he has a major kink for the way Sam likes to manhandle him and give it to him _hard_.

By day three, the interludes in between bouts of fucking are long enough that Sam even manages to run a bath for Dean and he gets to have a nice long soak in the tub which helps relieve Dean’s aching channel.  Being fucked brings its own relief, but after three solid days of it, the chafing is starting to hurt.

On Day Four Dean wakes up alone, feeling clear headed. His fever has gone and so too has the wanton _need_. He gets up, showers and dresses, and finds Sam in the kitchen.

“It’s over,” he says.

Sam turns and his smile is one of pure relief. “Thank God,” he says. “Not that this hasn’t been fun, but my dick was starting to feel like it’d been rubbed with sand paper.”

Dean snorts. “Tell me about it. Not my dick, but, you know, same feeling.”

Sam’s eyes widen and then he ducks his head sheepishly. “So…how are you feeling?”

Dean shrugs. “Relieved, mostly. I’m glad I trusted you. But I’m so happy we don’t have to go through that more than twice a year.”

Sam grins. “Yeah. Me too. I like sex as much as the next guy, but that was intense.”

“Is there coffee?” Dean asks, eyeing off the pot.

“Uh, yeah,” Sam pours him a cup and Dean sits down at the kitchen table (carefully…he really is sore) and sips at it like it’s ambrosia.

“You know,” Dean says. “I always used to think that you _didn’t_ like sex as much as the next guy. I mean, you hardly ever used to hook up with anyone. But man, you really know how to show your partner a good time.”

Sam actually blushes. “I’m a pretty typical Alpha, Dean. I get growly and possessive,” he looks searchingly at Dean. “With our lifestyle, always on the move, that…the possessiveness, just didn’t work. So it ended up just being easier to, you know, make do with my hand and a towel,” he pauses. “You know I used to envy you being a Beta. I always thought it was so much easier for you to play the field,” he shakes his head. “You had me completely fooled, you know.”

Dean shrugs. “I lie professionally. It ain’t that hard.”

“But you’re an Omega. You need a lot of body contact. You need _connection_.”

“And I got that. Whenever I was with someone, I always made it special. I made it,” Dean inclines his head, trying to find the right words. “I guess it was kinda like a micro-mating, you know? I made her feel like there was no one else in the world. We _connected_ , completely, for that short time. I got what I needed.”

Sam huffs. “I don’t think either of us were getting what we needed. But we made do.”

Dean takes a long sip of his coffee. “Is this,” he gestures between the two of them, “gonna change anything?”

Sam shakes his head. “Well. I think we’ll both be happier. But other than that, we’re still the same old Sam and Dean, just with added bonus sex.”

Dean smirks. “So you’re still gonna be a giant geek and you’re still going stink out my car every time you eat burritos?”

“Of course,” Sam says gravely. “And you’re still gonna listen to the same five albums over and over. On cassette tape.”

Dean, very maturely, sticks his tongue out at his brother. “Well at least I don’t listen to Taylor Swift like you!”

Sam raises an eyebrow. “Dude, I have literally caught you singing along to _Shake it off_!”

Dean shakes his head emphatically. “Never happened.”

Sam just rolls his eyes and gives him a sappy look. He pours himself a fresh coffee and then comes to sit beside Dean at the table. “You know, I’m glad this happened. I like… _us_. I’m glad I got to share your first Heat with you and I’m glad that I never shared one with anyone else. We were each other’s first.”

“Last too,” Dean rubs at his mating mark. “Truly Alpha and Omega.”

Sam’s face lights up, giant ancient-Greek loving geek that he is, and he nods at Dean. “Alpha and Omega. The first and the last. Sounds pretty good to me.”

And yeah, Dean really thinks it does.

_The End._

 

 


End file.
